


Yuri Plisetsky and the Haunting of St. Petersburg

by muttthecowcat22



Series: YOI Event Oneshots [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Character Death, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, M/M, Yuri On Ice Halloween Week 2017, kind of but only because Yuuri and Victor are already ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12583672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttthecowcat22/pseuds/muttthecowcat22
Summary: A ghost lives in Yuri’s apartment.  It’s not his fault that he has to live in a building that’s at least 200 years old and hasn’t been renovated in the last fifty.The ghost isn’t friendly either.He’s just . . . annoying.Victor haunts Yuri's apartment.





	Yuri Plisetsky and the Haunting of St. Petersburg

**Author's Note:**

> This is my unplanned halloween fic. Hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> Warning: Yuuri and Victor are ghosts in this fic, which means that they have died at some point in the past. However, this is a fluffy fic and any angst surrounding their deaths is not focused on.

A ghost lives in Yuri’s apartment.  It’s not his fault that he has to live in a building that’s at least 200 years old and hasn’t been renovated in the last fifty.

The ghost isn’t friendly either.

He’s just . . . annoying.

“Mmm, that smells good.  Can I help you cook?” the ghost asks, a cooling presence in the air behind Yuri’s shoulder.

“No, you’re never allowed to cook ever again.  How many times do I have to make this clear?”

“But, Yuriiii.”  The ghost stands there and actually pouts, with his outdated old-man clothes and his permanently receding hairline.

“No.”

“Yuuuraaa.”

“Shut up.”

“Yurachkaaa.”

“SHUT UP, VICTOR!”  Yuri waves his hands through the ghost beside him to disperse his image in the air.  Victor reappears again sitting at the kitchen table.

“I’m going to have to live the rest of my life without ever cooking again,” he pouts.

“Your life is already over; you’re a ghost!”

Yuri will never forget the day, not long after he moved in, that he came home to find his apartment full of thick smoke, a black stain burned into the wall behind the stove, all because Victor had decided to cook.  He’d be forced to open all the windows to let the smoke out.  That night, he froze beneath every blanket in his apartment.  Victor tried to warm him up by giving him an unintentionally ice-cold ghost hug. 

So, Victor isn’t allowed to so much as touch the stove anymore, or anything with the potential to catch on fire, for that matter.

* * *

Yuri sits in his favorite cushy chair with Potya and his shiny new iphone 60, watching a replay of his short program from practice earlier that day.  His completely gushy and idiotic coach is forcing him to skate to a song about pure, unconditional love.  He wants to hurl every time he hears the music, but he also wants to win the Grand Prix Final.  So, he puts up with it.

“Not bad, but not great either,” the ghost says _right behind Yuri’s head_.  Yuri nearly jumps out of the chair, as Potya scratches her way out of his lap.  “Most of your jumps are on point,” Victor continues, oblivious to any damage he has caused, “but your skating isn’t expressive enough.  When I watch this video, I don’t feel _agape_.  You need to _feel_ it.  Also, the prep for your axel wasshakey,whichforcedyoutoputahanddown.Thinkbeforeyou jumpinsteadofgoingintoitsoangrylikeyou’retryingtoshredtheice.”

With each word out of Victor’s mouth, Yuri’s irritation builds until his phone shakes in his hand.  He turns around, launches his phone – close range – at Victor’s face, and watches as it flies straight through the ghost, hits the wall behind him, and shatters into a million pieces.

“I’m going to kill you,” he says with quiet fury.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m already dead then.”

* * *

Living with a ghost isn’t all bad, though.

Victor attends each of Yuri’s competitions that his _dedushka_ can’t make it to, even the international ones.  Since Victor doesn’t technically take up any space, he can ride on Yuri’s flights without paying for a ticket.  He always pouts, though, about having to sit in the middle of the aisle and allow people to walk through him constantly.

Yuri takes quiet satisfaction in Victor’s inconveniences, even the minor ones.

During the competitions, Victor sometimes sits in the stands, holding a large banner with Yuri’s name on it and howling _davai_ in his shrieky ghost voice.  Most of the time, though, Victor stands at the boards, just next to Georgi, to watch Yuri’s programs with unwavering interest.  These are the only times that Yuri can respect Victor, when Victor’s posture grows a little straighter, his bright blue eyes serious in their analysis of the art before him.  Often, he follows them into the kiss and cry and wraps his cold arm around Yuri’s shoulders, which – Yuri will admit – can be slightly comforting if he is wearing a jacket. 

Victor is there for Yuri’s qualification for his first Grand Prix.  He’s there when Yuri fails to qualify for the Final and for Yuri’s subsequent bronze at World’s.

Victor never does anything other than annoy Yuri at home and cheer for him at competitions.

Yuri often wonders if there’s a limit to how long someone can be a ghost.

* * *

Yuri wakes up to the sound of snoring.  He rolls out of bed and stomps down the hallway to find Victor laying on his back on the couch, his feet sticking over the armrest on one end.

“Victor! Wake up, you’re snoring up the entire building again!”

As Victor rolls over, his gray hair seems to be thicker, covering more of his head, his skin younger, but only for a moment.  By the time his eyes land on Yuri, he looks just like he always has.

“Sometimes I wonder about the real reason you’re here,” Yuri says.

“Oh,” Victor pauses for a moment, rubbing his eyes, “I’ve never really known.  When I was younger, I thought ghosts had some reason for being . . . well ghosts, but I don’t.”

“No! I meant why do you specifically have to haunt my apartment instead of moving on to the next one.  You’re just here to annoy me, snoring on my couch when you don’t even need to sleep!”

“Ah, Yura, but you love me.  And, I need my _beauty_ sleep.”

“Ugh – beauty is the farthest thing from you, old man,” Yuri replies, causing Victor to curl up on the couch and pout.  Potya toes into the room, disturbed by all the noise, hisses at Victor (who hisses back), and climbs onto the chair near Yuri.

Victor stares at the cat for a moment, his face turning pensive.  “Maybe, my only reason for being here really is just to annoy you,” he says.

Yuri throws a pillow at him, which, of course, phases straight through his head.

“Yura, you really need to learn not to throw things at people,” Victor says, as Yuri glares at him, “But, anyways, I just can’t shake the feeling that it has something to do with my one great love.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Here we go again,” he says, “I’m going back to bed.”

“I do miss him,” Victor continues, unhearing, with that young look about him again.

* * *

It’s late at night, cold and dark, when Yuri finally has the breakthrough realization that he can skate “Agape” about his _dedushka_.  It’s the feeling that Victor told him to look for.  He leaves Victor snoring on the couch, and jogs to the rink.  He wants to connect his feelings about his grandfather with his choreography.

Yuri lets himself in through the glass paneled doors with the key that Georgi gave him.  The dark rink greets him, or, at least, he expects it to be dark.  Instead, a pale blue light illuminates the room.  It emits, bright and deep, from a form gliding around the ice.  Yuri’s first thought is to flee, but the blue light is mesmerizing, washing through the air like a fine mist of water that flows, then freezes, then flows again in cyclic bursts.  Shadows dance across the metal framework of the stands and the pale glow of the ice.  As Yuri stares at the light’s source, he begins to distinguish legs, arms – a person at its center, darker blue than the light surrounding him.

The person at the center of the light skates a program – a program without music, but it is beautiful.  The jumps flow seamlessly into the step sequence, not an edge out of place.  The spins fly fast and centered, building the program to its climax, the skater extending his full range of movement as the light spreads around him.

As the blue figure flings himself into his final pose, Yuri makes a decision.

“Hey you!” he calls from the boards. 

The blue figure startles and looks towards Yuri, the light around him shrinking a bit.

“Yeah, you – come here!” Yuri calls again.

The skater glides towards Yuri, his features becoming more distinct as the distance closes.  He is even more beautiful up close, a thousand shades of blue, his face young and bright.  “I want you to teach me how to skate like that,” Yuri says.

“You know I’m a ghost, right?”  And, despite the ethereal light surrounding the figure, his voice breaks through the rink solid, real – and a bit more modern than Yuri expected.

“Well, I knew you were something, but I don’t care.  You’re going to help me with my program tonight, and then I’m going to win the Grand Prix Final.”

The figure chuckles quietly, the blue light flickering around him.  “Okay, let’s see what you can do.  What’s your name?”

“Yuri.”

An amused look passes over the figure’s face before he says, “What would you like to work on first?”

* * *

Three nights a week, Yuri stays after his regular practice with Georgi to work with the blue ghost.  The ghost’s instructions are quieter, less forceful than what Yuri is accustomed to, encouraging him to put all of his personal energy into the program rather than having it forced into him.  The fluidity of “Agape” improves tremendously, but his free skate, the program that he actually selected the music for, continues to feel lacking.  The music is slower and lighter than most of his personal preferences, but it is also the music from one of his favorite skater’s most famous programs.  He thought that his admiration of the skater could carry him through the program, but so far, pure admiration hasn’t been enough.  The blue ghost smiles and tells him to think about all the love that he has experienced in his life – which sounds an awful lot like something Victor would say.  Maybe all ghosts are just that sappy.  Yuri is already relying on his grandfather’s love for “Agape,” though.  He can’t use the same inspiration for his free skate; it doesn’t fit the music in quite the same way.

* * *

One night, Yuri’s practice runs particularly late.  His legs burn after repeatedly running through his step sequence for his free skate.  By the time he finally returns home, he finds Victor waiting on him, sitting at the table, Potya having chased him off of the couch. 

“It’s late, Yura,” he says.

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, old man.  I was just practicing at the rink.”

Victor doesn’t pout, like he normally would.  He presses his lips together, and – he actually looks serious.  “You’ve always answered when I called you before.”

Of all the nights for Victor to actually worry about him.  “I was just busy.  Look, I have – well, I guess he’s kind of like a second coach.  I’ve been staying late with him to practice my routines.”

Victor raises an eyebrow.  “Really?  Does Georgi know about this?”

“Uh – well – no.”

“Yura, why can’t this new ‘coach’ meet with you during the day?”

“Oh – he’s another ghost, like you.”  Yuri doesn’t realize how dumb that explanation sounds until he says it out loud.

“Another ghost?”

“Yeah.”

Victor pauses for a few minutes, his chin in his palm.  “Okay,” he says, “but I’m coming to your next practice.”

“What?”

“I want to meet this ‘other ghost,’” he says before he grins, “and how come you’ve never asked _me_ to coach you before?”

“Because you’re old, and this guy’s really good.”  And, Yuri doesn’t say that he doubts that Victor, despite all his talk, can actually skate.  There’s no way the old man could ever glide across the ice in any way that could be called graceful.

“Yuuuraa,” Victor whines.

“This other ghost is the best skater I’ve ever seen,” Yuri continues, “Way better than anything Georgi did when he still competed.  If I can ever skate like him, I’ll win every competition hands down.”

* * *

Yuri sits in the stands at the rink waiting on the familiar blue glow to appear.  Victor sits beside him – well, sits is a bit of an understatement considering Victor can’t actually sit still.  He has been talking about something – probably his long-lost lover again – for the last thirty minutes that Yuri has inevitably tuned out.  By the time the blue light finally begins to take shape in the far corner of the rink, Yuri feels ready to punch Victor right in his heart-shaped mouth.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” the blue skater calls, “I think we should work on your free skate first today and run through “Agape” if we have time.”

Yuri hops down the steps in two seconds flat and doesn’t look back.  The blue ghost runs him through a few warmup exercises and jumps, while Victor watches from the stands.  Yuri wanted Victor to see the blue ghost’s impressive skating, but the ghost steps off the ice as soon as warmup is over and asks Yuri to begin his free skate.

As the piano music washes over the ice, Yuri once again attempts to find a theme to focus on.  He tries to think of his grandfather, but something’s just missing.  He skates through his first choreographic sequence without a sense of purpose.

Victor moves to stand by the boards, the fluorescent lights above him reflecting off his nearly bald head.  When Yuuri Katsuki skated to this music fifty years ago, he dedicated it to his husband and his family.  Yuri just doesn’t have any of that.  He’s never really had a family, other than his _dedushka_ ; he’s never really had the chance to love anyone else.  But, Victor – he’s had Victor for years now, standing at the boards at almost every competition, just as he is now, waiting up at night for him to return home, sitting on the end of his bed on nights when he needs company.  Yuri doesn’t have much family, but he thinks that Victor might count.  He thinks he might be able to skate his program for Victor.

So, he puts all of Victor’s energy into his step sequence, corrects every error in his posture that Victor has ever listed out to him, and lets the annoyance that Victor’s antics have caused him over the years power him through his jumps.  Yuri ends the piece with one arm extended towards Victor’s place at the boards, a tribute to Yuuri Katsuki and Victor both.

Victor stands with one hand over his mouth, the blue ghost beside him, fondly patting his other hand that is gripping the boards in front of him.

“That was good, Yurio, very good,” the blue ghost says, in his quiet way, when Yuri approaches them.  Out of nowhere, Victor tackles Yuri into one of his cold hugs across the boards.  Yuri almost tells him off, almost, before he notices that Victor is shaking in his arms.  So, he stands there and allows Victor to hug him for what seems like an hour before finally pulling away.

“It’s beautiful, Yura.   I’m so proud of you,” he says.

And, for once, Yuri can’t think of a single scathing reply.  He feels a smile spreading on his face, betraying him.

“And to think my Yuuri’s been teaching you this entire time,” Victor says and ruins the moment.

“What do you mean ‘your Yuri?’” Yuri growls.

“No, not you, Yura – Yuuri.”  He rests his hand on the blue ghost’s shoulder.

“You know each other?”

The blue ghost nods his head.  Then, Victor is suddenly pulling the ghost – the other Yuri – back towards the entrance to the ice.   
“Do you have our music?” he asks.

Blue Yuri chuckles in his now familiar tone with the blue light shimmering around him.  “Yeah, Yurio has it on his phone,” he says.

“Yurio – that’s a nice nickname.  I like it.”

“Victor, shut up, that’s not my name,” Yuri yells, but Victor doesn’t hear him. 

The other Yuri steps onto the ice and takes Victor’s hand to pull him along.  Yuri glances down to find that Victor’s shoes have morphed into skates.  When he glances up again, Victor looks younger, much younger, standing tall and straight with a full head of hair and wearing a magenta jacket that emits a similar pink light to the other ghost’s blue.

The other Yuri undergoes a similar transformation as they skate to the center of the rink, his blue light condensing into solid, tangible flesh and dark hair, leaving the only remaining blue on his brilliant glowing jacket.

They skate, together, a very familiar dance accompanied by the very familiar music playing though Yuri’s small speaker on the boards.  The blue skater had been beautiful alone, but with Victor, their skating transcends to a new level.  Yuri has only seen replays of this program hundreds of times, but in person, he is rooted to his place on the concrete floor as he watches Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri’s Katsuki’s duet to “Stammi Vicino” unfold.  Their dance is effortless and flowing, flashes of blue and magenta meld together and break apart again.  They are both smiling, Victor’s face one of genuine joy.  Yuri is barely able to reconcile this younger Victor with the one he knows so well.

This program is the reason why Yuri became a skater.  He’s astounded by the colors.  They never showed up so brightly in the old footage that plays over the news.  The old footage also never gave him an accurate impression of how much emotion the two skaters throw into their duet.  The image is draining yet beautiful; there’s too much life thrown into it.  Yuri wonders if the ghosts will fade away with their music when it is all over. But, they remain.

When Victor slides out of the final lift, they fall into a hug on the middle of the ice.  Yuri can just barely hear Victor whisper, “I missed you so much.” 

Yuri expects the old sap to start crying, but it’s the blue ghost – Yuuri Katsuki – who buries his head in Victor’s shoulder and says rather loudly, “I’m so sorry – s-so sorry.  I-I didn’t know.”

But Yuri isn’t having any of it.  They’ve both been playing him this entire time.

“Victor!” he yells, “You failed to tell me that you were _Victor Nikiforov_!”

Both of the ghosts whip their heads up to look at him, a watery smile spreading over Katsuki’s face.

“Ah, Yura, I thought that it was obvious, but then I realized that you didn’t think that I could actually skate!” Victor calls as they skate towards the boards, “Do you know how much that hurt me?”

Yuri scoops some shavings off the ice and flings them at Victor.  Victor is still holding onto Katsuki, so they actually hit him in the face instead of phasing through him.  Yuri relishes the look of shock on Victor’s face for a moment before he points towards Katsuki.

“And you!  I’m skating to your music and you didn’t even tell me!”

“W-well, I-I didn’t know if you would still like the music anymore if you knew?” Katsuki’s voice fades to a whimper.

“And you two didn’t even know that you were both ghosts?” 

They shake their heads.

“You’re both idiots.”

* * *

Victor stays behind at the rink to catch up with Katsuki.  For the first time in almost four years, Yuri enters an empty and dark apartment.  Potya’s green eyes greet him.  He refills her food bowl then heats up some leftovers out of his fridge and settles into his comfy chair to eat alone.

Yuri has never seen Victor happier than he had been at the rink.  He’s pined over his “one true love” ever since Yuri has known him.  Maybe, meeting up with Katsuki really is the reason that Victor hasn’t been able to “move on” – the reason that Katsuki hasn’t moved on as well.

Yuri sits in his cushy chair with only his phone and soup for company and imagines what his life would be like without Victor.  Katsuki and Victor could waltz off to wherever ghosts go when they stop being ghosts, and Yuri will never see them again.  Yuri would still have Potya, and Georgi.  He’d still have his grandfather.  He supposes that he would be fine . . . but he wouldn’t like it.

By the time Yuri finishes his soup, Victor still has not returned.  Yuri showers and cuts off the lights before crawling into bed with his pitiable cracked phone.  He is alone.  There’s no one there to make sure that he sets his alarm, no snoring down the hallway, just darkness, emptiness.

He falls asleep thinking for the first time that he might actually be afraid of the dark.

* * *

Yuri’s phone alarms before the sun rises.  He’s meeting Georgi as soon as the rink opens to solidify both of his programs before they fly out to Skate Canada the coming week.

He crawls out of bed . . . and hears snoring coming from the other room.  He tries in vain to stop a smile from spreading over his face.  He dresses in silence and ties back his hair.

When he walks into the kitchen to grab a light breakfast, he peers into the other room to find Katsuki, instead of Victor, asleep on the couch.  He nearly trips over Victor, who is lying, curled on the floor.  Victor must really like Katsuki to be able to sleep on the floor for him.

Yuri drapes a spare blanket over Victor before he steps out the door.

* * *

It’s been an extremely long day of practice – the day before they fly out to Canada – when Yuri returns home to find his apartment smelling like food.  His mind immediately jumps to the worst case scenario as he pushes the door open, expecting to be greeted with a wall of smoke.  “Victor!” he yells.

Instead, his apartment smells . . . like real food, no smoke in sight.

“It’s okay, Yurio,” Katsuki says from around the corner, “I’m helping Victor cook today.”

Yuri rounds the corner to find Katsuki managing a couple pans on the stove.  Victor has pulled back his hair – that he keeps full and young “for my Yuuri” – with a headband and is energetically (maybe a little too energetically) chopping vegetables on the counter.

“Look, Yurio!” Victor calls, “I can cook!”

“That doesn’t count, idiot.” He turns to Katsuki. “So, what are you cooking?”

“Oh – katsudon.  One of my favorites.”

“Can’t be better than piroshky.”

“You’ll change your mind once you taste it.”

And, Yuri won’t admit it, but the rather fattening looking meal melts in his mouth.  He inhales it in less than a minute, while Katsuki and Victor savor theirs with an old fondness.

* * *

They both fly out with Yuri the next day to watch him lose in Canada to JJ Leroy.  They also watch him lose the gold to Otabek Atlin by half a point at the Grand Prix Final.

They stand together behind the boards at Worlds to watch Yuri skate “Yuri on Ice” for the last time that season.  He skates it for both of them, throws everything that they’ve given him into his skate.  They sit with him in the kiss and cry as he watches his name shoot to the top of the score board.  When they both hug him, along with Georgi, for once, it feels warm.

“I love you,” Yuri says.

“We love you too,” Katsudon says, warm but quiet, while Victor cries into his shoulder.

“My little Yura, winning his first gold,” Victor chokes out.

“Shut up, Victor,” Yuri says as he feels his own tears slide down his face, “just shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!  
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
